In the deepest places of my heart, I constantly strive to be content in all things.  To not complain about circumstances, the mess, my house, the smallness of my yard, our bank account.  I despise winter with everything that I have and then swear that I will be happy once again when the weather turns warm and the sun comes out.  But being content is much easier said than done.  And that is apparent in my life in the past two days.  Because winter is long gone, and the sunshine is here.  But yet, I am still not content. Because now, it is the stark opposite.  The sun is beating, beating, beating down on us.  Yesterday, it was well into the nineties and today, not far from it.  And we have nothing to cool us down but the hose.  No air conditioner–not even a small room air conditioner.  The boys are sticky.  Carter is a miserable mess.  And the house is like a sweltering sauna.  The air is stagnant and suffocatingly hot.  

We hate the cold and ask for warmth. 

We hate the heat and ask for cold. 

When will we ever be content?